acting it out

the art of learning to live

Archive for the category “the poet”

For My Mother

Every time I look in the mirror, I will think of you. I will see the nose I once hated & I will smile because it is your nose.
Every time I dance, I will think of you. I will hear you singing along & I will laugh because you never could carry a tune.
Every time I’m sick, I will think of you. I will feel your hand on my head & I will feel better because I know chicken soup really is good for the body & soul.
Every time I cook, I will think of you. I will smell the memories of meals past & I will toast to you because you finally did master Julia Child’s coq au vin.
Every time I feel discouraged, I will think of you. I will remember your words & I will carry on because I know I have your strength inside of me.
Every time I am happy, I will think of you. I will live my life to the fullest & follow my dreams because you taught me how to embrace myself & be my own person.
Every time I think of you, I will love you even more.
I will be thankful because you gave me life, but you also gave me so much more.

I love you for forever.

I carry your heart, I carry it in my heart



I’m between the ghouls and the monster

It makes you stick,
stick in one place.
It makes you

& that’s what I am


I’m afraid to mourn a mother who is not yet (physically) gone.

I’m afraid to live
I’m afraid to love
I’m afraid to learn from my mistakes
because I feel I have already made enough.

That’s another word I identify with my current state,

However, I do not use it as an adjective to describe myself,
no, that would be too kind.
& kindness can not be afford to those who need
tough love?

I’ve had it.

I’ve had enough pain.
I’ve had enough anger.
I’ve had enough doubt.

I’ve cried enough tears.
Haven’t I?

I imagine there’s a collection of all the salt water I release
at night in my bed,
or in my shower,
or in my car, in broad daylight, at a stop sign, while an old Chinese lady stares at me.

There’s just jars & jars of it, sitting on a shelf somewhere.
They are labeled with my name & someone is sorting through them,
with the tiniest pasture pipette,
counting out each droplet,
seeing if it has reached the magic number,
seeing if it’s

But it isn’t.

So, the universe rears back its fist to have another go.

But I have had enough.

faith. take two.

my faithlessness
is causing me to verge on hopelessness.

my life seems to be so full of ups & downs,
it feels like a roller coaster.

maybe it’s more like the giant wave pool at water parks.

do you remember those?

a giant cement square,
filled with water & probably a hundred people.
It was built as a gradual slope,
with a deep end, and then a shallow end that turned into a “shore”.

I remember all the people crammed in this thing,
floating on inner tubes,
laughing, swimming & splashing around.
Then they would sound the horn
that signified the oncoming “waves”.
People would scramble to their flotation devices, or some even headed for the “shoreline” to escape the waves.

I was always the kid who braved the deep end during the “storm”.
I stayed out there treading water,
pretending to be a mermaid stuck in a hurricane
or a pirate caught in a shipwreck.

I’ve lost that little girl,
void of fear & full of such life.

now I’m trapped in the deep end of the wave pool,
struggling to get above water,
trying desperately to push through the crowd to get to the land.

I remember when I was a kid, when/if I had a moment of insecurity in that wave pool,
I knew in my mind that if it did become too much, that I could always grab on to a friends inner tube.

I am so grateful to have that safety net, symbolically, in my life today.

this is what I will have hope in.
this is who I will have faith in.
this is what will allow me to survive these harsh waters.
& this is what will eventually bring back that
brave little girl.

so thank you to
my dear
my wonderful
my patient
my understanding
my kind
my generous
my funny
my talented
my thoughtful
my unselfish friends,
who are my true family.

Without whom I would surely drown.

self aware

I’m competing with the past,
memories of what didn’t last.
I’m chasing down ghosts,
asking what they miss the most
from life.

I’m running through a storm,
way ahead of the mourn.
I’m missing what’s ahead,
before its even said
or done.

I’m looking at myself,
all together something else.
I’m skipping half the parts,
depriving my own lonely heart
of truth.

sound of emotion

All around
An absence of sound
This is: alone.

Through the void
Almost playing coy
This is: hope.

In the dark
Hitting every mark
This is: fear.

From within
A last second win
This is: joy.


beautiful, inspiring, raw, vulnerable, sincere, and made ME (the reader) feel liberated.

Well, the reviews are in I guess.

I never imagined that something I wrote would warrant a statement like that.

I never imagined anyone would read this blog
outside of the 3 people I told about it in the beginning.

But I hit that share button to send it to Facebook &

VoilĂ  !

I have readers?
I have “followers”?

Most importantly,
I have someone who took time out of their day to make sure I knew that they liked my writing,
that it meant something to them!

I realize that this little thing, is not as little as it may seem.

I know how life is, and how it can get.
busy, stressful, hectic.

Even that small effort of clicking the “like” button means something to me.

So, to the ones who support me & encourage me,
even in the simplest of actions:

I recognize you & I thank you.

& I hope to return the thoughtfulness someday as often as I can.

Which brings me to my next thoughts.

How often do I need encouragement?

A lot.

Probably more than the average person.

I’m an artist, an actor.
it’s almost a requirement to be needy & insecure.

But how often do I give out encouragement?

Not very.

It’s true.
& it’s sad.

Why would I ever neglect to give that which I am so desperate to have myself?

There are a number of reasons & excuse that could be named.

But that isn’t what matters.
What is important is that I realize that everyone around me deserves, wants, & needs encouragement,
Just like I do.

& I need to make more of an effort to make the people in my life know
how much they mean to me,
and how much I believe in them.
Even in the little things.

As often as I can.

echoes & shadows

time heals all wounds

I want to shoot whoever first penned this sentiment.
When I am hurting, I find it to be a filthy, bloody, lie.
When I am not, I still think it is a misrepresentation of a truth.

Perhaps others feel differently than I do?
I often believe that I feel differently, love differently, heal differently
than the people I am surrounded by.

Yes, time lessens the pain of a wound.
But the wounds, the ones which strike me deep to my core,
Those are the ones that stay, throbbing still.

I imagine my spirit to be a pumpkin.
(bear with me here).

The whole of who I am is a pumpkin.

Over the course of my life I am cut open, I am hollowed out.
Every cruel word.
Every lie, every betrayal, every friend turned foe.
Every email, text, vague Facebook status
that I obsess over.
These are my wounds.
These are the swift spoon like blows that swoop into my heart & scrap against my insides, taking bits of me with them.
I am left one layer thinner with each ill force.

I am not a blind victim. I know that I also cause the layers to be removed even further each time I re visit my pain, each time I dwell on the negative.

But all the same, I become more & more hollow over time.
The wounds do fade into one another, some completely forgotten.

But then there are the ones that hurt the most at their conception.
The ones that are repeated in cruel irony due to my bad judgement in who I associate with & who I let into my life, my heart.
& the ones that, sometimes were not even necessarily intentionally harmful
by their deliverer.
Just comments made by those who are blind to how much their words effect others,
because they are not saying the words for the one to whom they are speaking,
but for themselves as a result of their own wounds, or insecurities.

These are the wounds that resonate in the empty void that is left in my center.
The wounds that become echoes in my soul.

I create a smiling exterior.
A fixed look of happiness to deflect from my internal damages.

Life has made me a jack o lantern.

But every carved pumpkin has that light.
The candle placed in its center to make it glow
& to illuminate the face, to bring it to life.

So, what’s my candle?
What is my light which will chase out the shadows left by the people in my past?
& how do I make sure no one can blow it out?

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